Rejection
by Delicious Mud Pie
Summary: A Brock centered fic. Reaaaaaaally angsty, I guess it's humorous at the same time as nauseating.


  
Rejection  
  


  
Brock sighed as he and his companions walked off from the city to travel to the next as Ash Ketchum on his quest to become a pokémon master.   
  
I don't think I'll ever find a girl like her again, he lamented, able to think of nothing except for Sandy, a trainer who lived in the city they had just come from. She was so beautiful, so kind.  
  
Don't worry Brock, Ash laughed, you'll find another girl to reject you in the next town we get to.  
  
Misty chortled, there's always _someone_ for you to fall in love with wherever we go.  
  
It's not funny, Brock frowned, stopping in his tracks. I really liked her.  
  
You really like _everyone_, Ash rolled his eyes.  
  
Brock pondered seriously, begining to walk again. Why is it then that they never like me back? What is it about me?  
  
You're just young and sorta irritating, Misty shrugged.  
  
Brock blinked, shaking a little bit.  
  
Misty elaborated, you go up to every girl you meet and tell them how beautiful they are and that you're in love with them when you barely know them--yeah, that's kind of a turn off. You even talk about marrying some of them. Brock, you're sixteen for chrissake.  
  
Brock knew she was right, as much as it hurt, but pressed on for answers. Don't women _want_ to be told that they're beautiful? That they're loved? He said meekly.  
  
Misty agreed, but not by some wacko they barely know.  
  
  
  
Let's drop it, Ash suggested. You're fine, Brock. just young. Don't worry about it.  
  
Brock agreed, but without much conviction.  
  
Brock was feeling totally uncomfortable as the sun baked him as they walked along the road. The small shops and homes that graced its sides blurred together as they passed. the road was dusty, and just added to Brock's irritation. Misty and Ash began to fight a little, but he didn't bother interjecting.  
  
Their journey finally ended as darkness settled upon the land, and they pooled what little money they had to get a room for the night. As usual, Brock slept out on the couch, Misty took the bed and Ash had a sleeping bag on the floor. He was glad that they weren't camping tonight. He would usually have preferred it, and made something delicious for his friends and himself over a campfire, but he was too tired that night. He just crashed out as soon as he got the chance.  
  
It took a while for sleep to find its way into Brock's mind, as it was too crowded with thoughts of always being turned down, always being--rejected. His rejection was becoming funny to Ash and Misty since it happened so often, and Brock always took it with a cheerful grace. He would always take it with a cheerful grace.   
  
His last thought before entering a land of dreams was of Sandy, the last girl to tell him that he just wasn't her type. Maybe he came on too strong, as Misty said, but he couldn't help it. He always fell hard and fell fast. She kept him away from his dreams, but when they finally did force themselves upon him, they came painfully, and they came fast.  
  
_ Brock was once again about ten years old. He'd woken up to go and get a glass of water for his little sister who had woken up screaming from a nightmare. She had gone into her mom's room in her terror, but she wasn't there.  
  
Brock told his sister that their mom was probably in the kitchen getting a drink, and his sister became thirsty at the mention of water. Brock was so glad that she didn't wake up the baby with her caterwauling that he agreed to go get her a drink--but he was afraid to go and find that his mom wasn't there.  
  
His tiny feet crept softly down the hallway. He walked slowly, trembling in fear as he became more and more sure that the kitchen light was off. The walls were black, and he had to slide against one to know where he was.  
  
She could be in the dark, he assured himself. Trying not to wake us up.  
Brock flipped the light on in the kitchen, but it was desolate. The cold linoleum began to numb his bare feet as he shakily got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water. He wasn't paying attention as it filled, and water spilled all over his hands before he turned the water off.   
  
He walked back to where the kitchen met the hallway and was about to leave when he bumped into the counter. Shards of glass splintered all over the ground along with a wave of cold water which covered Brock's feet. Brock covered his mouth, though it wouldn't do very much for him if his mom heard it break. It did keep his sobs quiet, however, and he clumsily fumbled around for a towel and the broom to clean it up with. He stepped carefully over the glass as he made his way to the pantry, but no one came in to scold him. Brock found this even scarier than the actual scolding.  
  
someone said, calling his name from the doorway.   
  
Brock shouted, and he tripped over his own feet as he whirled around to face who had spoken to him. He fell to the ground, landing with an audible crack on his tailbone. The broom he was holding hit him in the face, and a tremble came from the base of his spine and poured out his eyes as the pain registered. He covered his mouth once again, trying to disguise his crying from whoever had come in.  
  
It was his eight year old sister. Not the little one that had asked for water, but the third oldest of the family. His mother had had another child every year successively since he was born, and he wondered at times what his life would be like if he was in a smaller family. He always shook it off as soon as he thought it, however, because he loved his siblings more than anything, and he always valued their lives above his. Always.  
  
Mom's not here, is she?his sister asked. She would have come in here and spanked you already if she was, wouldn't she? You woke everyone up.  
  
Brock choked, and stood up while deliberately not facing his sister. Go, I have to clean up the broken glass.  
  
Is she here? his sister asked again.  
  
I don't think so, Brock said softly. Maybe she'll come back in the morning.  
  
Brock knew how the scene ended, but the dream continued in another direction. He was suddenly six years old and playing tag with the two siblings directly below him in the living room. They were running around the old, dirty blue couches and the rusty brass coffee table, making the most out of a rainy day when escape was impossible. They were close to breaking things about a million times, and Brock's mother kept yelling into the living room for them to shut up. His mother was always weary and frustrated with them. It was too much to handle. Their dad was gone all the time. In fact, it seemed sometimes that he only came around to get his mom pregnant again and complicate their life more. Brock _hated_ being the oldest.  
  
You're it! Brock shouted, patting his brother on the back. He turned around to get away as fast as he could, but wasn't quick enough. His brother caught his feet. Brock's arms flailed in the air for a moment, and he came crashing down. His chin cracked on the end table, and it slid from under his face, toppling down onto the floor. A lamp was on the end table, and as it hit the floor a huge chunk imploded from the center upon contact, busting into about seven pieces in one small area. The siblings suddenly froze, and Brock's younger siblings ran to hide behind the couch.  
  
Brock's chin started bleeding, and he held it tightly with his hands as to stop the pain. He knew he couldn't escape punishment, and he just sat where he was.  
  
He began to shake violently as he heard his mom run into the room. His tiny heart began to pound with all the fear of a man cornered by a tiger in a zoo cage. His mom stood in the hallway for a moment, agape and not saying a word.  
  
Brock's anguish deepened as his mother stared him down, and he couldn't take it for very long before he began sobbing uncontrollably. He covered his mouth quickly with both his hands, but his breathing was so raspy that he was nearly hyperventilating, and the tears which reddened his cheeks didn't allow for any camoflague.  
  
I _told_ you little shits to stop running around in here, didn't I? she yelled.  
  
It was n accident mama, Brock sniffled, taking away his hands from his mouth. I'll clean it up, mama, just let me clean it--  
  
Shut up! she screamed, picking up the broken lamp. Just _look_ at this! Are you gonna fix this too? You stupid squinty eyed little brat! Do you know how much this thing will cost to replace? Do you? Do you just want to cause more problems for me?  
  
No, mama, I'll pay you back! Brock insisted, screaming as he cried outright.  
  
Don't you scream at me! She screamed at the top of her lungs.  
  
I wasn't! Brock still shouted, so nerve-wracked that he was unable to lower his voice. It wasn't very understandable between the shouting and the sobs.  
  
You still are! his mother shouted, then sauntered over to him. You can never make this up to me! You should have listened to me!  
  
I'm sorry! Brock screamed, I'm sorry!  
  
He was outright wailing at this point, his head thrown back and was screaming nonsense. His mother slapped him, I'll give you something to cry about! I'm going to leave you all! You drive me crazy!  
  
Don't mama! Brock continued wailing, don't leave! I love you mama!  
  
You don't act like it, she growled, then walked back to her room.  
  
Brock continued wailing for a little while, but at this point in his life, he didn't believe his mother actually would have left in four years. She threatened all the time.  
  
Brock was suddenly sixteen again, standing in a dark room with Misty and Ash in one corner, and Sandy in the other.  
  
Brock whispered, Misty?'   
  
But they both just stared at him, as did Sandy. Where am I?  
  
No response.  
  
Their stare was cold and almost hateful.  
  
Why do you keep looking at me like that? Brock asked, cowering into his chair.  
  
he told himself, although it wasn't him, it was some guy that was supposed to be him, but really wasn't. How could they love you if your own mother didn't love you?  
  
_Brock sat upright more quickly than he ever had in his life. His eyes were glued open, and he was breathing intensely. His heart was thrashing like a jackhammer inside his chest, and though he didn't realize it, he had screamed.  
  
Ash shouted, jolting awake from where he lye. He looked up to the couch where Brock was siting stark upright, and he shakily left his sleeping bag to put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
What's wrong, Brock? Ash asked.  
  
he gulped.  
  
Misty came into the room as well, flipping on the light. What's going on here? she yawned.  
  
Brock screamed from a nightmare, Ash explained.  
  
Misty shook her head. Come on Brock, we're not three anymore.  
  
Brock wanted to say but couldn't bring himself to do so. He just lay back down, becoming cold from the air touching the sweat which drenched his body from the fear he'd just felt. He placed his hand over his heart, and he was still gasping for air.  
  
Shut up Misty! Ash said for him. Good old Ash. He's really upset!  
  
No, no, Brock insisted, putting a hand to his throbbing head. I'm all right, really. S-sorry to wake you guys up.  
  
It's all right, Ash nodded, concern in his eyes. Just try and go back to sleep.  
  
Brock nodded, and covered himself back up with the blankets. His bare chest was damp, and he wished at that moment that he had a pajama top to go with his bottoms. He ran a hand through his hair, also examining the quantity of sweat it now contained. He knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep.  
  
Brock pondered his dreams, knowing that they were induced by what Misty had said to him earlier. But--he knew his mom _loved_ him, she just couldn't express it, not with the stress she was under.  
  
Brock looked at the back of Ash's head as he slept on the floor. Ash didn't have the greatest family life, not with his father leaving while he was a baby and all, but at least he had a mother who loved him. He never had to *be* the parent.  
  
Brock remembered how, whenever his father was still at home, he would sneak into the family's gym to watch his father battle. His father always said he was leaving to find new great pokemon to bring home so that he could make more money by winning more battles, but he never seemed to come back with new pokemon. He used the same onix and geodude every time, and lost often. Brock never resented this as other kids might have. He always felt sorry for his dad's losses, despite the fact that it was the reason that he and his siblings didn't have as many things as all his friends had, and why his mom was always unhappy.  
  
Brock came to see his mom's later departure as a sort-of blessing. He ran the gym far better than his dad ever had. He had to, to provide for his siblings. But at times it was twice the curse as it was a blessing. At the time he was shattered--but he knew his life was shattered long before that. It had ceased to have hope for him on his tenth birthday.  
  
Brock felt light headed and giddy on the day of his tenth birthday. That was the day that he was going to travel to the professor's house and get his first pokemon. He was a little remorseful that he felt so _good_ about leaving home. He promised his brothers and sisters that he would send money their way whenever he had any, and that when he was a pokemon master, he would always take care of them.   
  
He had packed and everything the night before. He didn't have anything to pack things in except for an old sheet, but that was okay. As soon as he had some money he would buy a new backpack and shoes and everything his heart desired, and then he would send the rest home.  
  
It was the only day he had voluntarily woken up before seven in his entire life, though he'd be waking up early voluntarily in the future for the rest of his life. He didn't even want a birthday party, he just wanted to escape.  
  
He sneaked into the living room and watched the first hazy rays of dawn shove the blackness of night out of their way, replacing the darkness with a sleepy pink. He admired the road that the sun came up on, and fantasized about walking down it for days, capturing all the pokemon he could possibly capture while on his way to become _the_ greatest pokemon master ever.  
  
The first smile to make its way across his face in months graced it as he envisioned his life from then on, and his skin tingled with anticipation as he waited for his family to wake so that he could tell them his goodbyes before moving out on his own.  
  
His youngest sister able to walk woke first, teary-eyed and waddling like the newly-walking toddler she was. She came up to Brock slowly, examining him carefully as her diaper-induced bowlegedness hindered her from traveling any faster. She couldn't talk very well, and Brock's heart skipped a beat when she collapsed in his arms.  
  
Don't leave papa-Brock, she sniffled.  
  
Brock almost began to sob himself as she called him this. He _was _the closest thing she had to a parent at all, but he wasn't about to start crying. Not this day, not on the happiest day of his life. He couldn't let himself be upset.  
  
His other siblings soon followed suit, and none of them could refrain from crying. Brock quickly stumbled once again into the depths of misery as they all piled around him for a hug.  
  
Oh God, he winced, I'm going to miss you guys so much.  
  
Don't leave! they begged.   
  
We need you! his oldest brother shouted.  
  
Brock gulped. He wanted to say that he had to leave. He wanted to tell them that things would be better after he left--that they would have money. That they would have nice things. But he knew it wasn't true. He knew that his leaving would just leave them hungry most days when his mom would forget to cook for them, and that it would leave the house a mess, and that it would leave them with no one to take most of the blame for everything gone wrong in their household.  
  
Brock said nothing. He buried his face in his brother's hair and began to cry softly.  
  
They all startled when his mom walked in the room from the hallway. Brock became scared, as she didn't appear to be in a good mood. But then again, it made him a little happier. He didn't think that she would miss him.  
  
Brock beamed, drying his tears, did you come to tell me goodbye?  
  
his mother snapped. I came to tell you all goodbye! If you'd rather have him than your own mother, I'm leaving, you hear me! I can't believe you ungrateful little shits! I'm outta here right now!  
  
Brock closed his eyes and grabbed the sibling closest to his vicinity tightly. He held back the tears and became stoic as he let go of his baby sister, picked up his tiny bundle of things in the old sheet, and walked back to his room. his mom stood in the hallway with fire in her eyes as he did so. It was at that moment he knew that he couldn't leave. It was at that moment that he knew he would have to forfeit his dreams to take care of his family.   
  
Ash whispered, awake once again. He blinked away the sleep and stumbled over to where Brock lye. Why are you crying?  
  
I'm not, Brock lied, his voice incredibly shaky.  
  
Ash put his hand on his own forehead and looked at the ground. Could you just tell me what's wrong?  
  
Brock said hastily, nothing's wrong! Go back to sleep! I'm sorry I disturbed you.  
  
Ash continued to stand, staring at his friend's face even though it was hardly visible in the obscurity of night. He sighed heavily and returned to his sleeping bag. I just wish you would tell me what was wrong.  
  
Well you wouldn't understand, Brock snapped, shocking himself with the angered tone of voice he used.  
  
I could try, Ash softly retorted, but wasn't answered. He groaned in defeat and tried to get back to sleep.  
  
Brock squirmed in disappointment with himself. That just wasn't him. It wasn't him at all to be rude to his friends when they were just trying to help. His head began to pound he was so tired, but he still couldn't bring himself to get back to sleep.  
  
Brock tried to think more positively about his past, and tried to recall something less depressing. His eyes remained open and he stared at the roof as he forced himself to recall something about the past that didn't upset him.  
  
People were often stunned to find a ten year old gym leader. Brock always explained that his dad hadn't been home for around a year, and they needed the money. People pitied him and battled him, often not taking his money even if they won. He felt terrible he was so pathetic. The only pokemon he had to battle with was a runty geodude that his dad had given him for his fifth birthday. He wished he had his dad's pokemon even though they were losers too. He thought he would be able to train them better, and do a good job.  
  
Despite Geodude's shortcomings, Brock never failed to let him out and play with him for an hour in a meadow near his home after work. Brock thought that it would make his beloved pet stronger, and Geodude loved throwing rocks around near the caves.   
  
Brock was always wary of the miners that hung around the caves, but he couldn't detour Geodude from playing there. It was his favorite place. The miners would often tease him if they spotted him, and challenge him to pokemon battles--battles that he never accepted.  
  
One particular day after work, Brock had been lazily picking flowers around the entrance of the cave. He always dreamed about how when he was grown up and rich he would marry someone wonderful and take care of her and _always_ be nice to his kids and let them have whatever they wanted. It was his favorite fantasy to use when he wanted to escape from reality, and he was pulling the petals one by one from a dandelion while he daydreamed. he should have known not to let Geodude out of his sight, however, because he took the opportunity of Brock's mental absence to go exploiting inside the cave. Brock never let Geodude in the cave for a reason--he didn't want the miners to try and catch him.  
  
Brock ran inside the cave as soon as he had noticed Geodude was missing and would not respond to his calls.  
  
Brock searched the cave, despite his darkness and the fears he tacked along with it.   
  
he called, ignoring his wet foot as he had stepped into one of the cave's many damp pools.   
  
The cave always held the sound of water dripping from the stalactites which hung from the ceiling, and on this particular day Brock could hear the wind whistle across an opening in the cave's roof like someone blowing over a glass bottle. He wished that he was back on the grass outside, traveling home against the quickly chilling wind rather than inside the damp cave which was quickly chilling his bones. He easily became lost in its nooks and crannies. He sat with his back against a stalagmite when he believed he was totally and utterly lost, his head between his knees.  
  
I'm so irresponsible, he sighed. Oh how I failed my Geodude.  
  
He swam in his desperation for a quite a while before he recognized the sound of his pokemon in the distance. He began to run to the sound, bumping into quite a few of the cave's natural shin-bruisers along the way. He ignored every bump until he reached the point where he saw his pokemon.  
  
it said, and Brock watched as it avoided a swipe from an Onix's tail.  
  
An onix! Brock's jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. Wow, I've gotta get Geodude away from it!  
  
Huh?' Brock heard, only to come face to face with a miner who was behind the onix. Who are you?  
  
Oh, excuse me sir, Brock stammered, but Geodude is my pokemon. I'm the leader of the Pewter City gym, so, um, you, um, can't catch it.  
  
The miner laughed. If you're such a mighty gym leader, your geodude ought to be able to defeat my onix easily.  
  
Brock's heart sank as the battle waged on. He would have to help Geodude.  
  
Brock balled his hands into fists, closing his eyes tightly and wondering how to command Geodude to win. Geodude, seismic toss, now!  
  
The miner blinked a little as the small, fragile Geodude had the strength to grab his Onix by the tail and throw it against a cave wall. His onix didn't have a huge life, and thus fainted. Brock squealed audibly in pride and relief, and called his Geodude back quickly. He wanted to kiss himself for teaching Geodude that TM.  
  
Damn Onix! the miner shouted. He didn't call the onix back.  
  
Where are you going? Brock frowned as the miner walked away from his fainted pokemon.  
  
Keep the damn thing, he grumbled. It's too damn weak for me, and I have three others.  
  
Brock gulped as he realized what he had on his hands. He wondered if his siblings would be as excited as he was when he returned home. He truly felt like he belonged in a rock-type gym at this point, and promised the onix as it rested in an extra pokeball of his that he would be the best trainer it ever had.  
  
Brock calmed down enough to fall back asleep after this memory, and he remained in a deep, dreamless state until morning.  
  
Brock woke uncharacteristicly late, and as he did, breakfast was already cooking.  
  
he thought aloud. Am I in the Twilight Zone?  
  
Is that you, Brock? Misty smiled, her head poking into the main room from the living room. I felt bad for comparing you to a three year old yesterday, so I'm going to cook breakfast and make it up to you!  
  
Sounds good, Misty! Brock called, forging a smile.   
  
Ash jolted awake. Did I just hear Misty say that she was _cooking_?  
  
C'mon Ash, Brock smiled, assuming his conciliatory role once again. Misty's cooking isn't _that_ bad.   
  
Not if you _like_ poison! Ash groaned.  
  
I heard that! Misty growled, poking her head into the main room once again and holding up a rolling pan. Don't make me hurt you!  
  
Ash pretended to faint and collapsed back onto his sleeping bag.  
  
Brock sighed, glad things had slipped back into a sort of normality.  
  
Hey Brock! Misty called from the kitchen while cracking some eggs, I've got good news for you! There's a Nurse Joy where we're going today!  
  
Brock's recovery suddenly halted. His smile faded into a frown, and he closed his eyes.  
  
Misty called, seeing as Brock hadn't gone into a lustful rampage.  
  
he shook his head, that's cool.  
  
That's all you have to say? Misty raised an eyebrow.  
  
Maybe he's worried it'll be Jessie dressed up as Joy again, Ash giggled, trying to lighten up Brock's mood.  
  
Brock courtesy laughed, that's why. Hey, I have to go use the bathroom. Be back in a second.  
  
Brock stood up from the couch, pulling the blankets off of his bare chest, and the morning air hit it with its slim warming rays of light. He stretched and yawned as he walked into the bathroom, his skin tightening around his muscles as his arms reached for the roof, and his face softening into a sleepy yet sharply defined countenance as he opened the door. He closed it softly behind him, then let his façade fall as he spied his reflection in the mirror.  
  
His eyes had dark bags under them from the restlessness of the previous night, and his eyes themselves were fairly red. He hung his head low, staring into the sink drain with his arms stretched vertically as he held onto the edge of the counter and shuffled his feet in his inner torment. His lips parted softly as he slowly began to breathe in from his mouth, and he desperately wanted to come to a realization about himself. He wanted to know what drove him to be so desperate all the time, what drove him besides a silly, childhood fantasy to be so obsessed with women, despite rejection after rejection.  
  
Ash, always the perceptive one, had fallen back asleep. Misty noticed that no bathroom-type sounds were coming from the bathroom that Brock had entered, and decided to take it upon herself to make sure he wasn't swallowing a bottle of pills or something.   
  
Misty rapped softly on the bathroom door. Are you all right? She asked.  
  
Brock didn't respond for a moment, then snapped out of his thoughts. he nodded, though Misty couldn't see it through the bathroom door. Yeah I'm all right, just a little sleepy is all. I'll be out in a minute. Sorry.  
  
Misty sighed, I _know_ there's something wrong. Ash told me you were crying last night and woke him up.  
  
Brock grumbled, wishing that he'd just gone back to sleep. Brock insisted, I was just sniffling. I think I might be getting a cold.  
  
Don't _lie_ Brock, Misty ordered.  
  
Brock became a little angered. You really want to know what's wrong with me? how about this. Every girl that I _ever_ had a thing for wouldn't even consider going on a date with me. There's something so repulsive about me that no one would ever want me.  
  
That's not even true Brock, Misty tried to console, putting her ear to the door. You're just to anxious. These things just happen. Give it time. Why do you want someone so badly, anyway?  
  
Brock opened the door at this moment, and Misty stumbled a little, but didn't fall.  
  
I'm not sure, Brock sighed. It's just, sometimes I feel like something's missing. Like everything would be better if I had someone to hold me and that I could be myself in front of, someone that I didn't have to play games with.  
  
You play games with me and Ash? Misty raised an eyebrow.  
  
Brock began to raise his voice a little as he staved off the tears that he didn't want to let anyone see. Of course I do! You think I could be happy all this time, rejected day after day, the third wheel in this little group?  
  
You always _seem_ happy, Misty frowned, realizing that they'd been blind all this time. I'm sorry Brock, I had no idea. I just thought, I just thought you were a flirt. That's all.  
  
Well, I am, Brock snorted. I'm a god damn flirt. And it gets me nowhere. I've never been on a date, and it's been my life's goal since I was a little kid. A little kid, Misty!  
  
Misty blinked, most little kids think girls are icky.  
  
I just always wanted to prove myself, Brock sighed. Prove _to_ myself that I was better than my parents. Better than my dad, and, and--  
  
And what? Misty gently pried.  
  
And that I'd never let any lover of mine degenerate into what my mom became because of lack of love. Brock practically barked this out, never having realized this before. He was desperate to prove himself. So desperate that he would have taken any pretty girl that came his way just to be everything she ever wanted.  
  
At this point Ash had woken up once again, and had heard the majority of their conversation.   
  
Whatever did happen to your mother? Ash asked delicately. You always told us that she died.  
  
She may have, Brock coughed, then wobbled over to sit on the couch. For all I know. She just left one day. Leaving me to take care of my family. You know Ash, I had your same dream when I was ten. But I had eight kids to raise.  
  
When you were ten? Ash boggled.  
  
Brock nodded.  
  
Misty blinked, you were just a baby!  
  
I was never a baby! Brock gasped, I was always a parent! I never got to be a baby for one second!  
  
Neither Ash and Misty knew how to respond to this. Brock put his face in his hands and tried to inhale his outburst away. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want his friends to feel sorry for him. That's not what he wanted at all.  
  
We're here for you Brock, Ash whispered, and put his hand on Brock's shoulder. I'll take care of you, if you need someone to.  
  
Me too, Misty offered, her eyes filling with water. We love you, Brock. You don't need a girlfriend, not right now. You have us. You're never a third wheel. We may not act like it all the time, but--  
  
We love you, Ash finished.  
  
Brock inhaled deeply, thanks guys.  
  
  
So? How'd you like it? I personally really like this story. I was reading on someone's website (It was a link from the Rock Candy website at http://www.redrival.com/rockcandy/, which you ALL should go to, it's such a great Brock site, and the fan art is SOOOO good, I want to ask her if I can use one of the pics she drew for my profile), that the story of Brock's past was changed from his mother abandoning them to her death just to make it more kid friendly. They said she was a VERY young mother, and, although she may not have been evil at heart, I thought it would be interesting to write a story based on the theory the site touched upon that Brock's desire for a girlfriend stems from his desire for a sort of mother figure. PLEASE tell me if you liked this. I LOVED writing this and I want it to be good. It's not BAMR, so you can't bitch about that. It's just about Brock. Later.


End file.
